


Goose Busters

by JaskiersWolf



Series: Canon Era Geraskier Prompts [8]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Curse Breaking, Cursed Jaskier | Dandelion, Fairy Tale Elements, Feral Jaskier | Dandelion, First Kiss, Getting Together, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, M/M, Mistletoe, Strangers to Lovers, Untitled Goose Game References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 11:00:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28509324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaskiersWolf/pseuds/JaskiersWolf
Summary: Prompt: Prince Julian getting turned into a goose or swan by evil Step Whatever but instead of running away to hide in shame he stays in the castle to wreck havoc similar to Untitled Goose game. People are so scared of this bird they call in a witcher because the goose is seemingly indestructible.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Canon Era Geraskier Prompts [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1982815
Comments: 32
Kudos: 366





	Goose Busters

**Author's Note:**

> Also on [tumblr](https://jaskierswolf.tumblr.com/post/637694252967723008/prince-julian-getting-turned-into-a-goose-or-swan)

Geralt was tired and already angry at the world when the young servant boy had run up to him at the market. He’d been caught up on a contract as the snow had begun to fall, cutting him off from the path up to Kaer Morhen, meaning he was stuck amongst the humans who despised him for the whole of winter. He longed for the safety of his home and the company of his brothers but he’d settled in Kerack instead. The trees in the market place were covered in snow and the stalls were selling all sorts of holy wreaths and evergreen garlands. One particular merchant had candles burning brightly, to advertise their stock. The scent of apples and cinnamon filled the air, almost overwhelming Geralt’s sensitive nose.

“Master witcher!” The servant called hurriedly.

Geralt sighed and pressed his fingers to his forehead. He had been planning on retiring to his room at the tavern, perhaps a trip to the local brothel, but he knew that tone of voice. That was the voice of someone in need of a witcher’s services. A night in the arms of a whore would now be a night tussling with some variety of monster. He just hoped it was a simple one. He turned to face the young lad, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Yes.”

“My Lord, the Viscount of Lettenhove, has requested that you come with me,” he simpered with an exaggerated bow.

Geralt suppressed a groan, he fucking hated nobles. It was all posturing and throwing money around up until the point where he actually wanted to get paid. He thought, once again, of the blistering bonfires at Kaer Morhen and the epic feasts which spanned for twelve days through the shortest days of the year. They all left their home with a thick layer of fat around their muscles, but not this year, not for Geralt. He tried to smile politely at the young servant. “And what is it that ails the Viscount so badly that he requires a witcher?”

The boy blushed, his composure failing as he stammered, looking for the right words. “My Lord Viscount will fill you in on the details, Master witcher.”  
Geralt frowned. It was never a good sign when the messenger didn’t even want to tell him the facts of the contract. He huffed and rolled his eyes. “Fine, I’ll meet with him.”

“Thank you, good sir.”

“Just. Just lead the way.”

Geralt was hurried into Lettenhove castle under the cover of a heavy black cloak. They snuck him in through the kitchens. The servant boy grew more anxious the closer they got to the castle and he was practically jumping out of his skin by the time they were inside.

“What the fuck is going on?” Geralt asked, his hands itching for his sword but there was no point until he knew what sort of monster he was facing.

“The. The… well the Terror of Lettenhove. He, it. It used to terrorise the market place but now he, it has found a way into the castle and it is destroying everything. There is just no way to kill him, it, to kill it, Master witcher.”

Geralt narrowed his eyes and looked around the busy kitchen. It was filled with all manner of servants, not just the kitchen staff. He wasn’t entirely well-versed in nobility but he was certain that the stablehands didn’t normally cower under the tables in the kitchen. He grasped his medallion in his hand but it was still beneath his fingers. “Take me to the Viscount.”

The Viscount was a tall man, well built with greying brown hair and soft blue eyes, one might call him handsome if it weren’t for ugly sneer on his face. The guards outside the room were practically shaking in their armour, and yet this man was draped across a throne like there wasn’t a care in the world. Geralt couldn’t help the low, almost inaudible growl that escaped his lips; fucking nobles.

“You got a monster problem?”

The Viscount laughed a grotesque bitter laugh. “Of sorts, oh how you’ll laugh, witcher.”

Geralt sighed, his fists clenching at his side. He was done with the riddles in this fucking castle. “I’m listening.”

“We are plagued… by a goose.”

Geralt blinked, waiting for everyone to start laughing. It had to be a joke. You didn’t hire a witcher to kill a goose. You hired a huntsman if it was that bad… but a monster slayer?

“Sorry?”

“A goose. The Terror of Lettenhove is a goose. It’s hassling my staff, stealing food, destroying the drapes and furniture. I heard it was causing havoc at the market last week too, but here’s the catch, witcher. No one has been able to kill it. My finest archers have shot it but the arrows bounce right off its feathers. The guards’ swords break the second they hit it, we’ve tried capturing the bastard but it is too quick, too intelligent.”

Geralt scowled and thought back to the servant’s first description of the goose. He’d kept calling the goose a ‘he’, and clearly this was no ordinary bird. If Geralt had to guess it was some kind of curse, one that either the Viscount didn’t know about… or he was the one that was responsible.

“Do I have to kill it?” Geralt asked, fixing the Viscount with an icy glare.

“That would be preferable but,” he paused and sighed, clearly reluctant to continue “if you can’t kill it then I want it gone; far, far away. With the Solstice and Yuletide celebrations around the corner, I want it gone!”

Geralt nodded. “So why did you curse him?”

The Viscount suddenly sat upright in his chair, flushing furiously. “Excuse me?”

“The Terror of Lettenhove? He’s cursed, and I think you had a hand in it.” Geralt cross his arms in front of his chest and smirked at the flapping Viscount.

“You’ve got some nerve, witcher!” He spat. “If you think I’ll pay you after such insolence!”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “Hmm.”

And with that he stalked out of the room. He would try to find this goose and hopefully manage to lift his curse. The castle was eerily quiet as he moved through the corridors. There were no servants buzzing around, no guards past the Viscount’s room. He closed his eyes and listened carefully for any traces of the goose. He smiled faintly when he heard a honk from one of the upstairs rooms and the rustling of feathered wings flapping. His instincts were telling him to draw his sword, like he would normally when tracking and hunting monsters, but he knew this time there was no real danger, and he didn’t want to harm the poor man who had been cursed. His best guess was that the man was the heir to the Viscount’s title or perhaps a long lost cousin coming to reclaim the estate. It was usually petty squabbles that led to such curses.

He didn’t hesitate before climbing the stairs, taking them two at a time. He was just grateful that the cursed man was a goose and nothing so terrifying as a striga. The honking got louder as Geralt moved through the house. He started to notice the destruction the bird had caused, feathers strewn all over the floor, curtains torn to shreds, scratches from the bird’s beak dug into the wallpaper. The honking bird fell silent as he approached one of the bedrooms. Geralt tilted his head and peered cautiously round the door.

“Shit!”

The bird flew at him, a mess of noise and white feathers. Geralt tried to grab his neck but, as the Viscount had said, the bird was too quick. He was pecking insistently at Geralt’s face and hair. Geralt forced himself to still. The bird honked and flapped, the wind from his beating wings swept through Geralt’s hair until the bird realised he was no longer getting a reaction. He dropped to the floor and stared up at Geralt. Geralt raised an eyebrow at the goose, staring back into startling blue eyes that had no place on such an animal.

“You’re cursed?” He asked in a hushed voice, squatting down so he was closer to the goose’s eye level.

The creature nodded and let out a pitiful honk before running around the room flapping its wings.

“Erm, it’ll be ok?” Geralt scowled as the bird jumped onto the bed, the bed sheets were shredded and goose feathers, most likely from the pillows, were strewn around the room. Geralt huffed a laugh, it almost looked as if it had snowed inside.

The goose honked loudly and stared pointedly at the mattress next to him.

Geralt hummed and slowly moved to sit down next to him. The bird immediately honked and jumped into Geralt’s lap before staring up at the ceiling. Geralt groaned as he followed the goose’s gaze.

Mistletoe.

“Fuck.”

The bird flapped its wings and honked loudly right in Geralt’s ear.

“I have to kiss you to break the curse?”

He nodded.

“But you’re a goose.”

A loud honk, clearly he was offended by Geralt’s bluntness.

“Shit. Fine,” he growled. “Not really sure how to kiss a goose but I’ll try.”

He grimaced as he placed an awkward kiss on the top of his beak. Geralt’s medallion hummed violently, springing from his chest and suddenly his lap was full of a brightly dressed men.

The man honked once more and then coughed. “Oh fucking bollocks!” He cursed and fell back onto the bed. “I thought for sure I would be stuck like that for the rest of my long life! Thank you, witcher. Gods, of all the things he had to take from me, it would be my voice. Hey… where’s my lute?! Oh fuck.” The man jumped up from the bed and started to ransack the room. “The fucking bastard!”

“He cursed you into a goose… and you’re worried about a lute?” Geralt scoffed and crossed his arms.

The man turned around with icy blue fire in his eyes. He put both hands on his hips and blew his fringe from his eyes. He was wearing a brilliant blue doublet with flashes of gold peeking out on the torso, it was unbuttoned and dark chest hair was just visible under his collar. He was obviously a relation to the Viscount, a younger version but infinitely more handsome. He was glaring at Geralt with a burning intensity but he lacked the sinister air that the Viscount had.

“You’re Geralt of Rivia? The White Wolf, Butcher of Blaviken?” He asked with a vague wave of his hand.

Geralt flinched at the old moniker but nodded. “Geralt is fine.”

He grinned and stuck out his hand. “Jaskier! Or as my father would prefer, Julian Alfred Pankratz and next in line the title of Viscount, but fuck that. I’m going to be a bard! I graduated from Oxenfurt with a bloody degree, I refuse to waste my life in this dump!”

Geralt smirked and glanced back up at the mistletoe, licking his lips thoughtfully. Now that Jaskier was himself again, kissing him really didn’t seem like such a chore, in fact he wanted to. Jaskier blushed as he noticed where Geralt was looking.

His gaze softened as he bit his lip. “Of course, this dump does have a rather lovely bed. It seems almost a shame to ignore it.”

“Hmm,” Geralt agreed and pulled Jaskier back into his lap so they were sitting, once more, under the mistletoe. “wouldn’t want to break tradition either,” he said as he glanced up at the green plant with its distinctive white berries.

Jaskier wrapped his arms around Geralt’s neck and brush their lips together, barely touching. “Tell me, Geralt, are you this forward with all the people you save?”

Geralt chuckled and pressed his forehead against Jaskier’s. “Only ones as pretty as you,” he muttered before finally capturing Jaskier’s lips in a heated kiss. 


End file.
